Trouble
by pure-me
Summary: Trouble is Stephanie's middle name almost! , but can she handle it if the stakes are escalated? Rating may change.


Steph's POV

My life was a mess. No, more than a mess – it was a joke – complete with insider gags and running bets. I had man troube, car trouble, family trouble and that's not even mentioning the various stalkers that feel the need to tag along after me. And after a period of initial panic, i'd become almost numb to the chaos that was my life. It's sad to say, but i'd somehow managed blasé. Ordinarily i power on and let it slide, but not today. Today was just too much...

I woke up to the incessant beeping that was my alarm clock with a head as heavy as a tonne of bricks. Perfect. Just perfect. Reaching out i yanked the damn thing out of the wall and hurled it towards the door. It landed with a ka-thud on the carpet, but sadly didn't manage to shatter into a gazillion pieces. Stupid carpet.

With a sigh i sunk back into the pillows and tried to resume that perfect numbed sleep. But it really wasn't any use – i was already awake. Groaning, I half heartedly rolled off the side of the bed and stumbled towards the kitchen in search of The Cure. I decided on coffee for the moment. Anything to wake me up. A moan escaped my lips as the first taste of caffeinated goodness slid down my throat. Halfway through the drink i realised with a start why exactly my alarm clock had gone off at such an ungodly hour. Bob.

Bob was Morelli's dog. He was a huge rampaging orange furball of dubious genetic origins. And left to his own devices, Bob ate EVERYTHING. Morelli was my on again off again boyfriend. We were both pretty sure we loved each other but negotiations were still ongoing as to what that would mean for us.

Morelli had shown up last night with pizza and beer after hearing of my latest disaster. Finding me on the couch blindly staring at a soundless TV, he shoved a beer into my hand, pulled me against him and turned the sound up. I was already _way_ ahead of him, having already downed a bottle or two before he got here. One beer later and less than fifteen minutes into the game, it was lights out for me. what can i say? i'm a cheap drunk. I can vaguely remember being carried to bed and receiving a light kiss on the lips, but beyond that, all there was was blackness. At some point i'd promised to get Bob because Morelli was working.

With that thought in mind and groaning at what else i may or may not have promised in my drunken state, i ran out the door and down the stairs to the parking lot. No time to wait for the elevator. I slowed to a stop when i realised the precise reason why i drank myself silly last night. My car had been blown to kingdom come yesterday after an enraged FTA had decided to test out his bomb making capabilities. he'd been trying all week to get to me, with varying degrees of success. Yesterday had been just a little bit too close. My hair was suffering some serious singe damae. Not that this was particularly new for me. It's widely known that i'm a magnet for disaster. I have terrible car karma. I've stopped counting exactly how many cars i've had blown up, stolen, crushed or otherwise destroyed. It's just gotten too damn depressing.

I needed a car.

Hauling out my cell phone from my bag, i dialled Lula.

"'Lo! What's up, white girl?" she answered.

"I'm having car troubles again. And i need to get Bob before he eats everything."

"Uh oh. Is this the sorta car trouble that don't start when you try or the sort that's not there for you to start in the first place?"

"The latter. Can i get a ride? I'll explain when you get here."

"Sure thing. I was just heading out that way anyway on account of I need some deep fried goodness. Be there in ten." And she hung up. Huh. Was she learning phone etiquette from Ranger these days?

Ranger was the other man in my life. He was my friend, my mentor and my one time lover. There's still something between us, but what exactly, I'm not entirely sure. There's the whole issue where he says he doesn't want a relationship but then acts like he does. It's all very confusing.

Ordinarily, if I wanted a ride, I'd have called him. But he's in the wind a lot these days and i haven't seen him in a couple of weeks.

I mused over what exactly he could be doing at the moment, but stopped when i realised i was giving myself cold sweats just contemplating the possibilities. Thankfully, Lula pulled up and before i knew it, all thoughts were drowned out by teeth rattling, glass shattering rapping.

Lula's hair was flaming red this morning. She'd shoe-horned her plus sized body into a pair of stretch denim jeans and a fluro pink tank that was more than a few sizes too small. Lycra was Lula's fabric of choice and she knew no limits.

"What's up with the clothes?" i asked. "It's a little conservative don't you think?" i smiled slyly eying her.

And the fact of the matter is that by Lula's standards, today's outfit would be the rough equivalent of a knee length skirt and a high necked shirt.

"Haha" she laughed, nervously I thought. "Tank asked me out again. He wants me to have lunch with his family."

That stunned me a little. Not the idea of Lula having Sunday lunch with someone else's family (although, that _would_ be particularly entertaining i think). No, it was the thought of Tank and his family. Somehow the idea of Tank even having a family struck me as absurd. I've never heard him talk about them, but then again, Tank was almost as good at not talking as Ranger is.

"Wow." I said

"Huh." Was her witty reply. Neither of us said anything until we pulled up in front of Morelli's house

"You better get in there. I could've sworn that that there window had two curtains hangin' not just the one." She said pointing to the front window.

She was right. The rod had been pulled out of its socket and now leant down towards the floor. Bob was sitting on the couch contentedly ripping the curtain to shreds. A scrap of floral fabric hung from between his teeth as he turned his head to see me. I smiled, despite the sigh that escaped me. I liked his thinking. Those curtains were ugly.

I waved Lula off as I went into the house. She needed a dose of mall air-con to calm her meet-the-family nerves.

"Come on Bobster. Wanna go for a walk?"

It seemed Bob needed no further convincing. Standing still just long enough for me to clip a leash to his collar, he took off bounding down the street with me in tow. I'd decided to walk over to my parent's house and try to mooch food and a car off them. This idea wasn't particularly original either. Sadly, it'd practically become routine.

An hour and a bit later i was feeling comfortably full and was in possession of a car. Albeit it was only Big Blue, but a car's a car, right? Huh. Right. Yeah, I know, who am I kidding?

Bob was riding shotgun as we motored over to the office, his head out the window – ears flailing, tongue lolling – Bob was just happy to be out. Me? I needed the money,

I found Connie painting her nails a brilliant poison green. "Hey Con," I greeted her "got anything new for me?"

Nodding, she sifted through the stack of files piled on her desk. She only used two fingers, trying to avoid smudging the nail polish. "Where's Lula, anyway?" she asked nodding her head towards the pile of files. "She's supposed to be in doing the filing she hasn't done for a week."

I plonked down on the sofa to examine the files Connie had handed to me. "I have a feeling she might not be in today. Tank asked her to meet his family. She's a little nervous."

Connie was grinning. "Oh I _wish_ I could see that meal!"

I laughed. "You and me both. Anyway, i need to get going if I'm gonna catch these guys." I held up the two files. "Bye!"

First on my list was Fred Neilson. Arrested for public nudity and assaulting a police officer. No priors. He was seventy-eight. I groaned. Old people were awful to bring in. They were wiley and thought they had rules unto themselves.

Fred lived on the outskirts of the 'Burg in a simple house much like the one my parents owned. I parked the car one house down and across the road and sat watching the house for any sign of life. I looked over at Bob. He was busy contemplating the leather seats of the car. After five minutes, Bob and i were sick of watching and i decided to knock on the front door. Leaving Bob in the car seemed too much like tempting fate, so he came with me.

I moved my cuffs from my bag to my back pocket and then rung the door bell. Fred answered the door sans apparel.

"What?" he demanded.

I launched into my spiel about bond enforcement and rebonding while he stood there fidgeting.

To his credit, he didn't run away until i was finished. As soon as he turned tail, i reached out and grabbed his wrist, sending him spinning into me, and slapped a bracelet on him. I can't say who was more surprised – him for being slammed into me, or me for actually managing to catch an FTA before they got away. Thankfully, i managed to get the other wrist in the cuffs as well, and before he realised what was going on, i had him in my car and we were off to the station, with Bob panting in the backseat.

I really was feeling quite proud of myself.

The only other file i had left was Mooner. But i really couldn't bring myself to sit through another star trek marathon, so i opted for heading back to Morelli's and calling it a day.

Morelli's truck was in the driveway when I pulled in. The smelled of garlic bread wafted out to greet me.

"Hey cupcake" Joe called out from the kitchen as Bob and i bounded in. Bob slammed into Morelli's legs, received a pat and then raced out of the kitchen. i sat myself up on the bench next to where Joe was standing and helped myself to a slice of bread.

"You're home early." I commented, taking in the room. I wondered if he'd noticed the curtains yet.

"So are you. Here, taste this." He took a step towards me and offered me a spoon with pasta sauce on it. Smiling, he dipped it into my mouth.

I grinned. It was excellent. Who would've though? A Morelli man that could cook? I licked my lips and watched his eyes go dark.

"Still needs a few more hours, i think." He growled. Leaning in, he claimed my mouth, our tongues tangling, fighting for control. My legs found themselves wrapped around his waist. He picked me up and carried me gently to his bed. He oscillated between tender and desperate tonight. Something wasn't quite right and i couldn't tell what it was.

For the first time in my life, i awoke feeling a little sad. The sex had been amazing. It always was. And i should have been grinning my head off. But moments before falling asleep, I'd had something of an epiphany. Well, at least it felt like an epiphany to me.

I wasn't in love with Joe.

It hit me then, just what that would mean. It would mean hurting him. Hurting my family. And hurting me. Because I knew I needed Joe in my life. But if i told him, would he push me away? Or would he refuse to let go, refuse to accept the way I felt? Silent tears ran down my cheeks. Shit. I wiped them away angrily. Now was not the time for crying.

The arm around my waist tightened and i opened my eyes to stare into Morelli's. He wiped my tear tracks tenderly and studied me for a moment. "You're not in love with me, are you?" he half whispered sadly. Shock registered in my eyes and i shook my head slowly. I didn't want to lie to him. Emotions flitted over his face: hurt, anger, desperation. And finally, with a long look at my crumpling face, acceptance. "OK" he sighed and pulled me into his chest. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours.

Finally, he shook me from my daze and pulled me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He dished up the pasta and I excused myself to the bathroom so he wouldn't see how he doing that threatened to turn me into a sobbing mess. I could already feel my lower lip tremble. _Ok_, I thought, _get a grip. You can do this. Just talk to him_. Huh. Easier said than done. I wasn't even sure Joe and I _did_ talk. My grip on the bathroom sink was so tight my knuckles were white.

"Steph? Cupcake? You ok? Come out and talk to me." His knock startled me. How long had i been in here?

I hesitated a moment, making sure i had control over my voice. I cleared my throat, testing. "Uh, um... ok. Just give me a minute." And I stepped out of the bathroom.

His gaze was penetrating and it flooded with concern as i stepped out of the bathroom. I could barely meet it, but I forced myself to.

He led me to the couch and sat beside me. What ensued was an actual discussion. No fighting or arm waving. The civility of it was a touch unnerving, but mostly refreshing. We could do this. We could be friends.

I left that night feeling bittersweet. Optimism was definitely mixed in there too, but I felt as though a chapter of my life was closing.

My apartment was quiet. I could hear Rex running on his wheel in the kitchen. I flipped on the lights and headed straight to the fridge. I needed supplies. Ben & Jerry's ice-cream, Tasty Kakes, and a bottle of liquor. Now i was set. Dropping Rex a corner of the cake, i wandered over to my tv, dragged it into the bedroom, pushed in the Ghostbusters video and plonked onto my bed.

By the time the movie had finished, i was suffering from a strange combination of brain freeze and tipsiness. Not to mention the fact that in addition to the alcohol i was on a sugar high. I felt rushed and depressed all at once. Man, was it confusing.

I didn't think one viewing was going to be enough, so I rewound the tape, intent on starting again. I shovelled my spoon into the ice-cream and brought it to my mouth. _Mmm_ i moaned. _Mmm-_ I stopped mid moan as some part of my brain registered that I was not alone.


End file.
